


According to Hoyle

by jadelennox



Category: Sports Night, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-03
Updated: 2007-05-03
Packaged: 2019-10-25 10:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17723069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadelennox/pseuds/jadelennox
Summary: "Look, Danny-me-love." George dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward, resting one large hand on Dan's thigh. "I came here so asnotto think about my overly dramatic hopeless romance. Or would you distractin' me be too dishonest for a fine young upstanding lad like yourself?"





	According to Hoyle

**Author's Note:**

> I got linked to an ancient post of mine (from twelve years ago!), and came across this comment fic from a "tell me fics I would never ever write" meme. My embarrassed note about it from 2007 is beneath the story. My 2019 self is a little flabbergasted that I used to write PWP that porny.

Dan: Good evening, from Port Caynn, I'm Dan Rydell alongside Casey McCall. Those stories, plus the Orioles watch their playoff chances fly away, the Bears play like they're still hibernating, and the Lioness savages her prey on the lists.

Casey: All that coming up after this. You're watching "Sports Night" on CSC, so stick around.

"You have to flick it with your index finger and thumb, or it doesn't count," Casey said.

"What's wrong with middle?" asked Danny, seriously considering just showing Casey his middle finger up close and personal.

"It's not a fair kick if you use your middle finger," said Casey mulishly.

"Where do you get this crap? No, seriously, do you have a Table Football according to Hoyle back there somewhere? Is Jerry Markbreit giving me a penalty for my kick strategy?"

Casey flicked the paper triangle at Dan's head. It hit, point first, right between the eyes.

"Ow!"

"Oops, personal foul -- unecessary roughness," said Casey, snickering.

Natalie opened the conference door and poked her head in. "Dan, your friend Cooper's here. And Casey, Dana's on the warpath about the sexist joke in the ten block."

"There isn't a sexist joke in the ten block," said Casey.

"Well, Dana thinks there is," said Natalie, and left. 

Casey got up and ran after her, yelling, " _What_ sexist joke? What are you talking about? I'm not a sexist. Some of my best friends are sexes!"

A wiry man slipped in the door behind Casey. "That's a right tangle your friend has found himself in, lad. I wouldn't argue with Natalie or Dana; holy terrors, the pair of 'em." He grinned and dropped down in the seat next to Dan's, putting his booted feet up on the table.

"Is it so boring terrorizing the local criminal element that you have to come bother me?" asked Dan. He flicked the paper football -- with his thumb and middle finger -- at the newcomer, but he smiled warmly all the same. "How's life in the Rogue, George?"

George held up his fingers in perfect goalposts just in time for the football to fly between. "Enough t'keep me busy," he said. "But I've been thinkin' I could use a little friendly company this evenin'."

Dan raised an eyebrow. "Admit it. It just turns you on when I make terrible puns about your girlfriend on the show." George stiffened, and Danny's face grew soft. "Sorry. Still haven't heard from her?"

"The lass writes to me often enough," said George. "But she's not my sweetheart now, and soon she'll probably... look, Danny-me-love." George dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward, resting one large hand on Dan's thigh. "I came here so as _not_ to think about my overly dramatic hopeless romance. Or would you distractin' me be too dishonest for a fine young upstanding lad like yourself?" He punctuated his question by stroking his hand further up Dan's leg, stopping just short of what Dan sincerely hoped was his target. "Well, upstanding, anyway," he continued, leering at the bulge by his hand.

"No objections here," said Dan, hoarsely.

"After the show, then," said George, grinning, his casual tone belied by his ragged breath.

* * *

So that was this afternoon. Now it was after the show, and Dan was kneeling on his own bed, face resting on his folded arms, with three fingers up his ass. He felt like he should be making some kind of witty comment (maybe about the essentially crooked nature of both George and George's fingers), just to prove himself professionally, as it were, but at this point he could barely remember his own name. And when he opened his mouth and tried to say something, anything --  harder faster more god please more please \-- instead he made sounds vaguely reminiscent of that time Elliott accidentally got Jeremy in the 'nads with a basketball. He had a feeling this was far more pleasant, though, unless Jeremy had some pretty disturbing kinks. In any case, Dan wasn't thinking about Jeremy, or Elliott, or basketball, even. He was thinking about George's long long fingers, his knuckles, that twist that was _just right_ , that made him squeak, that made him forget about sports and about CSC and about anything other than George.

And when George suddenly pulled those long long fingers out, Dan could only whimper, could only think no no no don't stop please god please, and before he had time to gather his thoughts into anything more coherent those fingers were replaced by George's gorgeous perfect cock. Two hands, one dry and warm and the other still sticky with lube, grasped Danny's hips and held him up as George thrust and once, twice, three times, hitting his prostate again and again, until Danny was gasping hoarsely, his voice gone from screaming into the pillow, and he was coming his brains out all over his Chicago Cubs bedsheets.

"That's it, darlin' boy," George groaned, and wrapped one arm around Dan's hips and the other around his cock, milking him through the bone-melting orgasm and then thrusting again and again until the grip on his hips tightened enough to leave bruises and Dan heard George give off a low shuddering moan.

Dan collapsed to the sheets, to wrung out even to avoid landing in the wet spot, but when George pulled out and lay on his side Dan rolled over to face him. Finding the energy somewhere, he raised one hand to brush a sweaty brown curl off George's face. There was a look in George's eyes that was causing Danny physical pain.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," replied George.

None of the things Danny was thinking were really things he could say. She's a fool if she doesn't want you, or What does he have to offer that you don't, besides a kingdom and no criminal record and unquestioning heterosexuality, or Her loss is my gain, or Marry me so we can do this every night for the rest of our lives, and twice on Sundays. So instead he just leaned forward and pressed his lips softly to George's, saying everything -- and nothing at all -- with the softness of his lips and his tongue.

"So, I like how your fingers are as crooked as the rest of you," he said as the kiss ended, though he realized the joke had seemed funnier when he was busy having his mind blown. And then it didn't matter, because George laughed and thwapped him on the side of the head, and look in his eyes was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> 2007 notes:
> 
> So I posted the "tell me fics I would never ever write" meme, and colorwheel asked for George Cooper/Dan Rydell. Now there are multiple problems with this. The first is that I have promised myself I am going to start writing less porn, because I'm not very good at it, and I only write it to make other people read my stories, mostly. The second is that I have up-and-down sworn that I don't write children's literature characters in non-canon 'ships, and I certainly never write explicit pornography about children's literature characters.
> 
> None of this explains why the story I wrote for colorwheel is not only explicit porn, PWP even, but it is so long that it won't even work as a commentfic.
> 
> I am going to children's literature hell, I just want to point that out. (On the bright side, it's a _Sports Night_ story with actual sports. Sort of.)


End file.
